Writing is like being able to put life into a snow globe. It takes the things that are too big and scary and reduces them into a form that I can put away when I want and look at from a distance. It also takes all that’s good in life and captures it into something I can take out when I want and look at close up and keep forever. It makes the bad things into something I can hold…and the good things into something I can hold onto. Both help so much that I need that little souvenir of life.

Tuesday, July 23, 2013

Special Delivery

It started, as do most of our backyard adventures, with the bunnies.

But these were not the big, mean, fat bunny gangs. These were itty-bitty, adorable little piles of tiny precious babies no more than 4” long, tops. In other words, future big, mean, fat bunny gangs.  But they were so teensy weensy and helpless that I was horrified when I almost mowed two of them. What ensued was a call to Wildlife Rescue, a homemade bunny nest, and lots of checks to make sure said babies were making it back to Mama. Which I think they did. In fact, I believe the above is one of them several weeks later.

In the meantime, though, I discovered a cat hanging out in the yard, presumably waiting in line at McBunBun’s. I ran it off several nights in a row. I’d see it from the window, but it would be gone like magic as soon as I’d get the door open. Finally I waited at the door without closing it all the way and flung it open. There was a black cat—not merely crossing my path, but standing on it.


When I got a close look, it became clear that this was really a cat skeleton wearing a fur suit. And let’s face it—there is nothing sweeter than a hungry kitty. So I uttered those fateful words. “Awww. Are you hungry?”

Bet you can guess the answer.
The rest, as they say, is history. Here we are, months later. We’ve taken out ads and made reports at shelters. We discovered that there are some very strange people who “collect” black cats. And the nice people who came forward ended up deciding he couldn’t be theirs, after all. So he chose us, and we’re glad. I didn’t think I was really a cat person, but The Great Catsby is sort of perfect for our family.

Some pets are sought, and some are bought. The others are, I guess, the ones that someone up there thinks we ought to have, delivered right to our doorstep.

And that’s pretty good luck.

The Great Catsby
A black cat crossing your path signifies that the animal is going somewhere. ~Groucho Marx


  1. Tammy--I hope The Great Catsby makes it into a CS story. The deadline is August 31...(He's a handsome kitty.)

    1. Thanks, Sioux! I originally told people he was about as interesting as a goldfish, but now it's clear whatever he'd been through was suppressing his personality. Turns out he's a bit of a goofball, and I have much more hope for his story-potential.

  2. Replies
    1. Thanks, Linda. As you can tell, he's no longer a skinny!

  3. Oh, I love stories with a happy ending! I'm primarily a dog person, too, but kitties have a certain undeniable charm.

    Critter Alley

  4. I commend you for saving several lives. Here in the country, those flop-eared fellows are plentiful. They breed like rabbits, you know. Our cats have always been the ones to come into the yard, dragging in a rabbit bigger than themselves. Then the dogs take them away, once all the work is done. It's shameful, really, because we have a beagle whose mom was a field trial champion. He's all bay and no catch. Which is good for the rabbits, I suppose.

    1. Here in the city they're plentiful, too. But these were SO tiny and cute! I definitely didn't want to mow any or pick up bunny guts on my sidewalk.

  5. Tammy, he's beautiful! And I love his name. He sure wandered into the right yard. :)


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